Dear friend

one

Dear friend,

Eva told me to write to you because you're the only one who will listen. I dont know where to start, Mom has gotten worse. She hasn't even moved from the couch today. Ever since you've left she has spent her days drinking, yelling, and sleeping. She doesn't like sleeping in her bed because that's were you guys slept, together. If she does decide to sleep and/or move from the couch she sleeps in my room or, at a smaller distance, the guest bedroom.

I want to help her but all she does is yell and blame herself for everything. I bought her some books to read so she could get her mind off the whole thing, that's what usually helps me, but she usually leaves it in the spot that I placed it or throws it across the room saying that books are full of shit and have unrealistic expectations on life. It's sad really. She's that puzzle that you always wanted to put to together and when you finally do it's missing a few pieces.

She didn't move again today so I went for a drive, I didn't know where I was going until I ended up sitting at the cemetery and placing a single daisy in front of the marble stone carved with your name and a few dates.

I wanted to tell you how I felt but I would hate for you to think I wasn't happy with the life that you provided for me. I want you to know how thankful I am. I wish you were here with me.

People always talk about how 'he looks over me' but it's all just talk really. There's no heaven, there's no god. If there was such a thing why would he make me hurt so much, why would he cause so much pain. I tried praying but it never works, he either ignores my pleas or isn't there; not listening.

Now the devil, I believe in the devil, he causes the pain, all the hurt. He knows what it's like to hurt, he knows what it's like to feel like you could destroy everything you touch. Maybe something caused him to be so evil, maybe he was hurt and it was so greatly that it was inhuman. It's kind of scary to think about.

I hope you're well, I love you.

Much thanks,

Lacy.